


Royal Oxford Weave

by katajainen



Series: My Season of Kink [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bondage, Consensual Kink, Fili being a tied-up hot mess because I can, Kink Negotiation, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season of Kink 2018, improvised bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-16 13:42:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16087271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katajainen/pseuds/katajainen
Summary: They have the house to themselves for a few hours, and Fili has a brainwave involving improvised restraints. It works out surprisingly well.





	Royal Oxford Weave

**Author's Note:**

> Fills the 'Bondage' square in [my Season of Kink bingo card](https://katajainen.dreamwidth.org/344.html).
> 
> Many thanks to Saraste for the beta!

‘It’s at least two hours before anyone else comes home, what’s the rush?’

‘What’s the rush, he says,’ Fili quipped back, then tried to kiss Ori and pull off his own shirt at the same time, cursing under his breath as he got his hand trapped by a cuff turned inside out.

‘Let me,’ Ori offered, but Fili shook his head, yanking at the sleeve without bothering to get the button open.

Ori saw the moment the idea hit him, his face turning from irritated to thoughtful to mischievous, lower lip caught between his teeth as he deliberately twisted the recalcitrant sleeve into a rope and wound it once around his wrist for good measure.

‘You remember,’ Fili said lightly, ‘what we talked about, the other day?’

Ori swallowed. ‘That you had thought… that maybe–’ he leaned in, closing his hands over Fili’s: both the cloth-wrapped one, and the one gripping the improvised rope of crisp white cotton– ‘maybe you wanted someone to tie you up?’

‘Not someone. You.’

‘Oh. You want to try that now?’

‘You said yourself, we’ve plenty of time. But only if you would. You know, have your way with me.’ And they were close enough for Ori to feel the heat of his bare skin through his own long-sleeved tee, see one kissed-pink lip dimple where Fili was biting into it.

‘I…’ _Have your way with me_ , he’d said, and Ori _had_ considered it. He licked his lips. ‘Let me think,’ he said and cast a quick look about his room. Desk and office chair. Futon. Standalone wardrobe. Still holding Fili’s hands, he backed towards the door. ‘Come.’

In the kitchen, there were four high-backed wooden chairs, courtesy of the landlady, that would not have looked out of place in a 19th century farmhouse. Ori pulled one away from the table. ‘How about you sit here and I… well, you know?’

‘Brilliant.’ Fili’s lips brushed softly at the corner of his mouth. ‘Thank you.’ And there _was_ something in the way he looked up at Ori, hands gripping the back legs of the chair, a white length of cotton still trailing from one wrist, something heated and expectant that made Ori’s blood run faster in his veins.

‘Your shirt is going to be ruined,’ he murmured as he circled around the chair and dropped down on one knee.

Fili shrugged it off. ‘Oxford weave can take a beating,’ he said. ‘And if not, I have others.’

Other shirts that more likely than not were worth more than Ori’s entire outfit. Carefully, he opened the obstinate button at the cuff and pulled the shirt free before twisting it into a proper rope. This he used to bind Fili’s hands together at the wrists, winding the cloth around and between them in a snug figure-of-eight, which he secured to the chair’s backpost, tying the ends off with a weaver’s hitch. When finished, he touched softly at the inside of Fili’s wrist above the makeshift restraint. ‘It’s not too tight, is it?’

‘No. Feels fine. I’ll just–’ Ori could see the muscles on his shoulders flex as he tried to pull free. The knot did not slip, and the cotton held. ‘I think,’ he said slowly, ‘that I could get out of this myself, if I really needed to, but–’ he tipped his head back to look at Ori– ‘I’ll tell you if I want out.’

‘What will you say?’

‘Cut. I’ll say “Cut.”’

A nervous giggle escaped from Ori. ‘We’re not doing a porn flick, you know.’

‘What? No, I didn’t mean it like that.’ And now Fili was laughing, a soft low chuckle that was one of Ori’s favourite sounds in the world. ‘I meant for you to take some scissors and cut me loose.’

‘Oh. Okay. I can do that.’ Still standing behind the chair, Ori bent down to kiss his smiling mouth, letting his hands rest briefly on warm bare shoulders before stroking slowly downwards.

Fili’s breath hitched audibly as Ori pinched one nipple between two fingers, teasing it into a hard nub, breaking the kiss to mouth at the taut line of his neck as his other hand joined the first, plucking, twisting, rubbing, until Fili was trembling against him, panting out low soft sounds of pleasure that made Ori feel increasingly snug in his jeans, and as he stepped back to adjust himself, he heard a definite whine.

‘You still good?’

‘Better than good– just don't... don’t leave me hanging.’ A soft flush was spreading downwards from Fili’s neck, and his nipples were dusky pink and swollen from all the attention, accentuated by the outward thrust of his chest. Ori’s gaze dropped to where his trousers were distinctly tented. ‘Please,’ he gasped.

‘What?’

‘Please,’ Fili repeated, his tongue flickering over his lips like the word had left some new breathless taste passing them. ‘Please touch me.’

And Fili had always been more for showing rather than telling when it came to what he wanted in bed. Usually, he would simply have taken Ori’s hand and put it where he wanted it, only now he couldn’t. Now he had to ask for it, and Ori’s breath caught at the back of his throat at the realization.

‘Please touch you where?’ he asked in a rough voice, walking around the chair, then leaning once more into Fili’s space, pressing his hand against the front of his trousers.

‘Fuck!’ Fili ground out, his hips jerking up into his touch. ‘Yes, please, your hand on my cock. Please!’

‘At your service,’ Ori murmured, quickly unzipping him.

‘Oh wow,’ Fili breathed softly as Ori pulled his trousers and pants down to his ankles. ‘ _Now_ I feel exposed.’

He _was_ , Ori couldn’t deny it: the position, with his arms pulled back and tied up, put his toned chest and abused nipples on lovely display, and his cock stood full and flushed between his spread legs. ‘I like it,’ Ori whispered, stroking the inside of Fili’s quivering thighs, his own neglected arousal aching at the sight.

‘Deviant.’

‘Look who’s talking.’ Slowly standing up, Ori unzipped his jeans, hissing as he palmed his cock through his briefs, the dark stain in the white cotton growing as he circled his thumb over it, his eyes locked to Fili’s.

‘Damn it, Ori, you giant tease – come on. You– ah– promised me service.’

‘Oh, but I didn’t say when.’ Ori could not have said where this sudden capacity to taunt had come from, but he knew he reveled in it.

He undid Fili’s hair from its bun, and tilted his gold-haloed head back for a deep kiss as he straddled his lap. Fili moaned low against his mouth as Ori rocked against his erection, but it took more than one stuttering ‘Please’ for him to relent. He took his time kissing down the side of Fili’s neck, rubbing at one nipple between his fingertips until it was visibly darker than its twin.

‘Oh for the holy… _fuck_ , Ori,’ Fili’s breath came in loud gasps that tickled Ori’s hair. ‘I thought you were– ah– were too bloody _nice_ to be like this… I need, _please_ , I need you to jerk me off, _please_ and be kind.’

And it was all Ori could do not to come himself right then. He gripped Fili’s cock, all patience and finesse forgotten, leaned in to kiss the strangled whimper from his lips, stroking him hard and fast until he came with a jerk that nearly overbalanced them both, crying out with his head thrown back, and Ori couldn’t resist licking the taste of salt from the exposed hollow of his throat, shoving his come-dripping hand into his own pants and coming over Fili’s still-trembling stomach after only few hasty pulls.

He could not have told how long they remained there, foreheads touching and shaky breaths mingling. The clock on the wall ticked away the minutes as their shivers cooled down to simple post-coital stickiness.

Fili was first to speak. ‘Cut,’ he said softly.

‘This still wasn’t a porn flick,’ Ori mumbled back.

‘No, I mean seriously, let me loose. I think my arms are going to sleep.’

In the end, Ori didn’t have the heart to cut through Fili’s nice shirt, but even after washing and ironing, it was never quite as crisp as it used to be. Ori took to wearing it once in a while, and although he would fiercely deny it, the prime reason were the looks he gained from Fili when he did so. Because sometimes, he would ask for a repeat performance.

**Author's Note:**

> Royal Oxford is a kind of dress shirt fabric weave. (In case you were wondering how I come up with titles...)


End file.
